


Drugstore Perfume

by shensei



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Drugs, Episode 4 spoilers, F/F, Mentions of Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 10:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4476620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shensei/pseuds/shensei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the happiest and saddest moments of your life flash before your eyes right before you die. </p><p>Chloe always thought that was bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drugstore Perfume

Chloe Price, a veteran of Blackwell Academy, a modern day unsung hero by her own selfish claims. Imperfect in everything she ever did and a disastrous failure in all she could ever hope to be. A sore sight of missed opportunity condensed solely into one rather measly life, some would call that being human. For Chloe, it was simply finding meanings to exist for just one more day.

 

Stood basking in the heavily fumigated room she called her dorm, surrounded by the light smog of smoke and inhaling a mixture of cheap hairspray, drug store perfume and the strong scent of lemon haze, Chloe Price grabbed a pair of light grey sweatpants hanging on the back of her slightly busted couch. As she slipped them up her thighs, they hung low on her bony hips while she walked across the room with a slight jig in her step while a freshly rolled joint hung from the skin of her cherry-kissed lips. The v-line of her thong strap was visible against her skin – black, like the bra that she was wearing simply to keep her chest covered. It was ill fitting on her, however, with unadjusted straps that hung off the sides of her shoulders that she frequently had to reach up and pull to rest on her shoulder-blades once more. Once she approached the other side of her room, she reached out with her tattooed arm to grab her gas lighter at the edge of her computer desk, and flicked the lid of it open.

 

Reaching up with her free hand, she laced her fingers through her slightly damp, freshly dyed electric blue hair. After attempting to dye it a vibrant pink and the result turning out horrendously wrong, Chloe had rushed down to the local store and bought herself her usual dye to put on top of it. Blue was more her colour anyway. Now she had a mismatch of a vibrant blue and shades of deep pink scattered around the top of her head. Nothing her usual black beanie couldn't cover up. While running her thin fingers through her short hair, Chloe brought the lighter to the tip of her spliff, and took the first obligatory toke of the night from it. The taste was smooth, and like the strand suggested, had a citrus tang that sent Chloe into a subtle haze. Playing loudly at almost full volume in the background from her ancient stereo player was the song 'Heroes' by David Bowie, just the right vibe to set the mood for a good high in Chloe's book.

 

Chloe swayed her hips in time with the humdrum beat of the song as she ingested the smoke. Eyes falling shut, Chloe basked in the entirety of this singular moment. She let the rhythm of the guitar fill her entire body and consume her until eventually, the rolling of her hips began to spread throughout the rest of her body. Every inch of her was moving in time and pace with the song, and she reached up to grab the butt of the joint between her thumb and index fingers and closed her eyes tighter while she carelessly tossed her lighter onto the floor of her room, doomed to be lost among the other heaping treasures and misfortunes lurking in her room.

 

Speaking of Chloe's room, it was rather polarized picturesque. Similar to an ad you'd see in the back of an 80s grunge magazine promoting one of those slice of life movies today's kids seemed to relate to more than they focused on their own dull lives. Posters were plastered unevenly across the white walls, a mixture of some of the great rock bands and half-naked girls in very tasteless and promiscuous positions. Classic Chloe, keeping it unostentatious, as per usual. Near the far right of the room, half-hidden by her beaten plaid couch was an obscenely large dent in the wall. The story behind it brought back pleasant memories for Chloe – she and Rachel were flying high with nerves on constant vibration after taking tcb for the first time, and they rocked out too hard on pimped out air guitars to The Beatles. Now it was decorated with silly polaroid snapshots and cut outs of their favourite rock gods as tribute. A toast to their memories, and to some of their own.

 

Discarded across her dull blue carpet was mountains of dirty laundry scattered into piles that made no logical sense, and that Chloe had zero intentions of doing any time soon. Shoved in an unused corner were a few unopened cardboard boxes, still fresh from Chloe's house she had yet to open and unpack since her arrival at Blackwell, and that was _months_ ago. Joyce had visited twice since then, and both times she'd lectured Chloe on the importance of making this room feeling more homely and Chloe couldn't help but block it all out. Nag, nag, _nag_. That's all mom's were good for. Chloe was just, in her mind, saving time for when she and Rachel packed up, got on their bus to Portland and got the hell out of this dumb ass town.

 

That's right, Chloe was too busy raising a little hell of her own with the one and only Rachel Amber. Rachel – a goddess among the hundreds of students at Blackwell and the copious amounts of faculty members. Rachel – a lover, a daughter, a best friend, a soon-to-be-model, with a personality far to expansive for a town so small and quiet such as Arcadia Bay. And she was Chloe Price, a small town girl with her heart set on big time dreams. The two of them together were perfectly mismatched, unhealthy for one another, but did they care? Not by a long shot. The only issue Chloe ever had with the match up was one day, she'd have to share Rachel with the pages of Vogue magazine, and in turn, share her with the world. Possessive? Maybe, but Chloe preferred protective. She worshipped the ground Rachel walked on.

 

The greatest part of it all? This ethereal goddess that made every day worth living for Chloe, this spectacular myth of a human being had her legs crossed on the unmade sheets and messed up bed in the corner of Chloe's room, with a broken piece of a mirror clutched between her manicured hand, trying to apply a pair of fake eyelashes over her perfectly applied winged eye-liner. Man, how lucky could one girl get?

 

Chloe had to take a couple of moments to bask in the utter beauty that was Rachel Amber. Her faint silhouette behind the musky clouds of smoke, her aura was bright like the morning sun, and she shined brightly like a beacon in the darkness. Chloe had to bring her improvised dancing to a slow halt as she began to pour her entire attention onto Rachel Amber, and slowly exhaled the smoke she held inside her lungs through her nose. Childish, light blue eyes seemed to soften as pupils found their balance on Rachel's form. Rachel currently looked like a still shot from a movie, an ad in a fashion magazine that someone had blown up to life size and placed right before Chloe's very own eyes – but no. No. This was the real thing.

 

Chloe couldn't help it, or hold it back any long. She let out an insanely happy, short laugh through her nose in utter bliss rolled into complete and infinite happiness, and she had to tear her eyes away to look at the ground for a few moments. Even without trying, Rachel could never fail to take Chloe's breath away. When she looked back up, thin lower lip being gnawed under her two front teeth, Rachel hadn't moved a single inch. She sat there, the curve of her back crescent shaped and the weaves and dents in her spine visible underneath her slightly ridden up baby pink vest tee. Peering closely, Chloe could see the strained muscles in Rachel's knuckles tense as she attempted to concentrate, and she stuck the tip of her tongue out of her lips.

 

“Fuck.” Rachel hissed, and she threw the tweezers down on the mattress and sighed heavily. To Chloe, even when Rachel cursed, her voice sounded so succulent and sweet – and Chloe melted like butter at the sound.

 

Chloe pressed the zoot to her lips and proceeded to take another elongated drag from it while watching Rachel – and that's when Rachel snapped her head in Chloe's direction. The movement was sharp and deliberate, as though she  _knew_ Chloe had been watching her this entire time. Right now, her usual long, golden hair was tied back into a loose bun on the top of her head with shoulders lurched forward in a hunched up position.

 

“What are _you_ looking at.” It was not a question, but a demand, and Chloe had to stop herself from choking on the toxic fumes currently burrowed inside her lungs. She turned her head away quickly, and began to nervously splutter out a strained cough. The smoke came out in jagged waves while Chloe's eyes began to water. She'd lost her cool.

 

“Tch. Still can't handle your smokes.” Rachel says scoffing. Her tone was deliberate, as though she was mocking Chloe with her voice. The sheer vice of the tone alone was enough to send crushing waves through Chloe's chest. “Pass it here, you're hogging it all. Anyways _someone_ needs to remind you how to toke properly. Jesus Christ.”

 

Chloe didn't have much time to protest or speak in her own defence. The goddess herself pushed her petite frame from the bed and began to make her way towards the stereo. Rachel had a natural swagger in her step that Chloe was deeply envious of. After all, it was the kind of walk that could make everyone stop and stare in awe, and it was still so effortless for her. Rachel could do practically anything and make it seem effortless – and on top of it all? She'd always pretend not to notice, but thrived subtly off of the attention she gained for it. And God, did she love it.

 

“And what is with this, Chlo? Bowie? Seriously, I cannot get my party animal on listening to repeats of David Bowie's failed hits.” Rachel continued on with a slight annoyance lingering in her voice. She began messing with the settings on the stereo until she finally hit a station playing some trashy modern pop song by Robin Thicke, 'Blurred Lines' or something? Chloe had no idea, keeping up with the latest hits wasn't exactly her keenest interest.

 

“Hello? Chloe? Are you _listening_ to me? I said pass the joint.” Rachel finally turned around and indicated to the joint in Chloe's hand. Wordlessly, she obliged and looked away as she passed it over to Rachel.

 

“Sorry Rach.” Chloe mumbled, forcing herself to grin to cover up the hurt feelings that were lingering in her chest. “Kinda spaced out for a moment. Shit's hitting me hard.”

 

Rachel seemed to be pleasantly amused by this, and she cocked one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows up while narrowing her eyes on Chloe. When she stared at Chloe like this, Chloe couldn't help but feel exposed, like she was stood before Rachel clad naked and she was being examined from head to toe with a judgemental eye. And God, did she hate to love it.

 

“Three hits and you're peaking? You're still a baby Chlo.” At least this time she was just teasing. She moved the joint to her cherry pink lips, shaped like a love heart, sculpted with the perfect cupids bow, and began to slowly inhale. When she pulled the roll up away, Chloe could see the faint smudges of pink lip gloss left in residue on the end of it. 

 

Chloe felt her heart ache and thump against her rib cage at the thought. Sharing joints with someone else was almost like indirectly kissing, especially when the other person leaves a little memory of their taste there when they pass it back.

 

“How fat did you roll this?” Rachel asked while she was blowing out smoke. She didn't even flinch, and Chloe knew doing that ruined the back of your throat in ways she couldn't begin to describe. It _hurt_ and Rachel made it seem so easy. 

 

“Pretty fat.” Chloe can't help but grin in response as she reached out and took the spliff from her, and took another aggressive toke. She inhaled so quickly, Chloe could feel the fumes claw against the walls of her lungs and when she released, it was elongated, and fresh air came like a hard hitter, head spinning and throat throbbing. She felt like she could fly.

 

Rachel started rummaging through Chloe's clothes, picking out a low cut tank-top that on Chloe, made her look like a sell-out teen high on life and heroin, and yet when Rachel pinned it against her well-endowed chest, she looked like a rock star. She could make anything a fashion statement, even a worn old tee with the anarchy symbol fading away on the middle of it from one too many trips to the washing machine. She was  _hot_ .

 

“How does this look?” She asked, doing somewhat cutesy exaggerated poses with her lips pouted. 

 

Chloe had to swallow a forming lump in the back of her throat. Her eardrums were filled with the thudding sound of her heart about to jump straight out of her chest and onto the floor before her. Although Rachel was moving before her, swaying her hips while a few strands of her honey coloured hair slipped from the loose bun and fell across her face, time had stopped. The music in the background was a distant fuzz, a hum of a memory so far away, you can barely tell it's there.

 

And Rachel? Her entire body seemed to sway in slow motion. Skin radiated like the gold rays of the afternoon sun, and everything in the room disappeared and faded to black compared to her. 

 

“You...look fine.” Play it cool, Chloe. The last thing Rachel needs is another person helplessly doting over her entire existence. She doesn't need her best friend acting this way. “I mean, that tee will look hella cool on you Rach.”

 

It all came to a halt, and Chloe came crashing back to reality.

 

Sticking her hip out to the side, Rachel, dropped the tee onto the floor and placed her hands onto her hips. Chloe gulped nervously, and watched as her hands rested just below her waist, and inhaled in an irregular manner as the little dangling piece from her belly button piercing jangled a little against her stomach. It was difficult to catch her breath, even when Chloe knew Rachel was mad, your heart exploded.

 

“Just _fine_ Chloe?” Rachel said accusingly. Her face distorted into a look of petty betrayal and she scoffed before rolling her eyes. “Whatevs. I can't even rely on my friends to be honest with me. I look like trash, right? Just fucking say it Chlo. I expected that kinda honesty from you. I'm going to look like a fat piece of shit in that top. Eugh. You always had the better figure.”

 

“What? No, dude, I mean it. You'd look hella. Fuck, Rach, you'd look good wearing my mom's clothes.” Chloe had no idea how to save herself in this sort of situation. Rachel was prone to these outbursts. Constantly worrying about her image, and any compliment that didn't detail exactly how perfect she'd look in something was insulting. Yet whenever Cghloe tried to do that, she'd turn around and tell you to stop being so sensitive and 'man up'. Chloe couldn't win.

 

“I said what _ever_ Chloe. Don't you ever listen?” She snapped angrily while turning her back to Chloe. Rachel tore off her pink vest top, and exposed her bare back, dotted with a few light beauty marks across her amazing bodily bone structure.

 

Feeling intrusive, Chloe immediately turned around and faced her desk. Resting both hands on the table before her, she leaned forward and bowed her head while she quickly tried to collect herself and her feelings. When she looked up, she could see Rachel in her mirror, beginning to put on an electric blue bra while muttering to herself. 

 

Deciding this was the perfect time to stress smoke, Chloe, raised the zoot to her lips and took a quick, stressed out drag before exhaling sharply. Her mirror was decorated in photos of her and Rachel, and a message Rachel had written on her mirror months back with her favourite red lipstick that Chloe didn't have it in her to wipe off. No matter where she looked, or where she turned, Rachel was there. Rachel was always there.

 

“Are you coming tonight?” Rachel asks quietly, taking the hair-tie out and letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders. 

 

“Like I'd be seen dead at a Vortex Club party.” It was Chloe's turn to roll her eyes before turning back around to face Rachel. “C'mon doll, that ain't my scene. Spending my night with a bunch of weirdos and stuck up assholes and risking ruining my reputation because I'm so off my face I won't remember shit? Hell no.”

 

“Ugh, since when did you become 'too cool for school' Chloe?” Rachel asked snidely. 

 

“Since when were _you_ too school for cool?” Chloe could be nasty when she wanted to, even to Rachel. Typical self-defence mechanisms. Worked like a charm.

 

“You're impossible.” She hissed, beginning to pack up her make-up kit.

 

“Woah there.” Chloe took a few steps forward. “Where you going? Party ain't for like, another three hours.”

 

“I'm _going_ to Courtney's room. At least she doesn't have the fashion sense of a potato and can give me some real advice on what to wear.” Rachel smugly said, shoving her belongings in the handbag she had brought over and swinging it over her bare shoulder.

 

Clenching her fists, Chloe snarled. “Since when did you become such a mega-bitch Rachel?”

 

“Don't even _try_ and start that bullshit, Price.” Rachel's words were like venom now, they struck, and they cut deep and filled Chloe with slow killing poison. “The only reason people at Blackwell think you're moderately cool is because _you_ hang out with _me_. I even get your name on a Vortex Club party, and you act so ungrateful Chloe! You always have to have me to yourself, and do what, huh? Throw rocks at broken cars in the junkyard then get wasted and high by ourselves like total losers? I wanna go out, I wanna go out and party with my best friend sometimes but _she_ is too fucking stubborn and jealous to even let me out of her sight for give goddamn minutes.”

 

Rendered speechless, all Chloe could do was stand there with her mouth slightly agape in utter shock and terror at how Rachel had just acted towards her. Rachel had yelled at you in the past, sure, and gotten pretty heated about it but she had never... _ever_ been so harsh with her words before. 

 

“You've changed.” Was all Chloe could manage, and her hurt was obvious in her voice.

 

Realizing the fault of her words and actions, Rachel let her handbag slide down her arm and she caught it in her hand. Her eyes showed devastation and her body language regret. “Princess, I'm sorry I–”

 

“Get the fuck out of my room Rachel.”

 

“Chloe–”

 

“I _said_ get out of my _fucking room_.”

 

Rachel didn't dare utter another word. She made not a single sound or protest further than what she had already said. The damage had been done, and dealt with. When their eyes met for one final time before she left, Rachel pleaded for forgiveness with her sky blue eyes, and then sighed with them. Chloe was stubborn, however. Dubiously so, and she tore her gaze away from Rachel to look elsewhere. She wouldn't squeeze an apology out of Chloe with those puppy dog eyes, not today. Not after what was said.

 

Not bothering to watch Rachel leave, Chloe heard the gentle click of her door shut behind Rachel when she left, and all the tension Chloe had been building up inside her was let out through a frustrated, angry punch into her bed. It squeaked in response, and some of her pillows moved in place, but nothing major. At least she hit a mattress this time and not a wall or something that'd make her knuckles bleed.

 

After that feisty exchange, Chloe found it difficult to finish the rest of her joint. It tasted of bitterness, and of the all-American cherry lip gloss that reminded Chloe of Rachel. Holding back a storm of tears, she angrily stubbed it out on her bedside table and tossed it into the trash can nearby. It missed, however, and fell down next to other empty potato chip wrappers and empty weed packets. 

 

Falling face first onto her bed, Chloe silently began to sob into her pillow. When she was calm enough to catch a breath, she inhaled, and immediately felt sick to her stomach. Her bed smelt of Rachel, it smelt of her usual sunscreen lotion, and her drug store perfume she never went a day without wearing. Moving her hands up to the pillow, Chloe dug her fingers desperately into it and bit at her lower lip. Rachel...Rachel. All she could think about was Rachel. All she needed right now...

 

Chloe refused to check her phone when it vibrated some time later. It was definitely from Rachel, and her heart was still sore. She wasn't ready for that yet. The right thing to do would be to go to the party and apologize to Rachel, but Chloe couldn't bring herself to do it. She wanted to stay cooped up in her bedroom.

 

Maybe Rachel was right all along.

 

Chloe passed out not long after her nail polished fingers had worked their way into her tracksuit pants and she aggressively began to touch herself. It was a hate-filled way of venting out all her pent up feelings currently, and when she eventually orgasmed, she collapsed on the bed, drifting into sleep with thoughts of Rachel and lost hope still lingering in her mind, and into darkness.

 

Then, hours later, she awoke with a knock on the door.

 

Eyes blinded by the morning sun, Chloe groaned and rolled over off of the bed and yelled out a 'I'm coming!' to whoever was violently banging on her door. Jeez. It was like being at home again. She yawned and sluggishly made her way towards her dorm room door with heavy eyes and a tired heart. It took every ounce of strength to make it there. Right now, she really didn't want to exist. What time was it anyway?

 

Clutching the handle of the door, she pulled it open to see none other than...Victoria Chase.

 

Fantastic.

 

“Where the _fuck_ is Rachel Amber.” She demanded while shoving Chloe aside and stepping into her room without warning. She wrinkled her cute little button nose that Chloe _swore_ was fake. “Ugh, it reeks in here. Ever heard of opening a window, Price?”

 

“Calm your tits, girl, sheesh.” Chloe replied angrily. “Rachel ain't here, duh.”

 

“Don't 'duh' me, bitch. That little skank ruined one of my most expensive dresses my father bought me from Milan for my birthday and then _left_ saying she was going back to _your_ room. So where the fuck is she.” Victoria took steps towards Chloe with each word she spoke, hands placed on her hips. Despite Chloe's height, Victoria still seemed to tower over her.

 

“I don't _know_ where she is, you fucking freak!” Chloe yelled, shoving Victoria away from her.

 

Scoffing in disbelief, Victoria glowered at Chloe with a violent scowl. “How dare y–”

 

Before a fight could break out, a new voice spoke up.

 

“You gals looking for Rachel?” Juliet Watson asked as she walked by Chloe's room in just her pyjamas with her shower stuff in hand. “I saw her leave with some guy during the party last night. Don't know who. You think she hooked up?”

 

Wait, Rachel hooked up with someone last night?

 

Confused and anxious, Chloe reached out to grab her phone that was charging on the bedside table. She swiped open the screen, and looked through her recent messages – there was nothing from Rachel. Only one text from your mom asking if you and Rachel wanted to stop by for breakfast tomorrow morning –  _this_ morning. This was strange, this was not right. Rachel would always text you when she got to parties, and then text you when she left.

 

Chloe had to use these few precious moments. Behind her, the morning sun was slowly becoming enveloped in thick, black clouds that made the room dim. The situation was starting to look really grim. People were looking for Rachel, she said she was going to be somewhere she didn't go, and now, no one had seen her since she left with some random guy during the Vortex Club party and no one thought it was suspicious? No one thought to stop her? See if she was okay? At least see  _who_ she was with?

 

The only explanation to this was one Chloe was not willing to confront. Not yet.

 

“I...have to go.” She choked out between disbelieved half-sobs, and shoved passed Victoria. She heard the faint yell of Victoria trying to call her out, but Chloe didn't pay attention. Quickly, she dialled Rachel's number as she sped towards the exit of the dorms. 

 

Before she had the chance to press dial, she received a text from an unknown number. One that couldn't be reached or retraced. Chloe tried to see if there was a caller ID, but there was nothing.

 

_Go to the Junkyard._

 

It was more ominous than it needed to be, but in broad daylight and with nothing else but morbid worry and anxieties to work on, Chloe could only assume it was from Rachel. Maybe she texted her from a reversed number, or maybe she used someone else's phone whose number was blocked? Rachel would be able to give her those answers when she got there, at least. Everything would be fine if she went to the junkyard. 

 

_Rachel...what did you do this time..._

 

The thought raced across Chloe's mind as she made her way, barefoot and still more or less half naked to her truck. She attracted a couple of wolf whistles and cat calls her way and if this wasn't an imminent situation that involved Rachel, she would've turned the fuck around and punched them straight in the face – whoever the fuck they were.

 

Chloe threw her phone onto the passenger seat when she got into her truck and sped out of the parking lot and straight onto the main roads. The junkyard was their sanctuary, their place to go when they needed one another. A place they'd go to escape the troubles of every day life and the world around them. A place where they could be heroes and be free. A chance to run away and pretend to be people they weren't. It was an acclaimed haven of peace and hope.

 

And when Chloe arrived, the air felt dead.

 

She made sure to grab her phone before pulling the rusting door open and took a hesitant step out and onto the jagged cobblestone beneath her feet that dug into the soles of her bare feet as she stared at the entrance. The air felt heavy, thick, and where by now, you'd usually hear a bird chirp or the sound of a train passing by, there was no noise. Not a sound. The atmosphere was thick with death. Even the sun had hid away from this place behind dark clouds that threw a shadow over the already dismal area.

 

It was as though time had frozen in this sacred place.

 

It's surreal for Chloe, the entirety of the moment. It was though her mind had taken a complete back seat and someone had reached out to gently grip her hand to guide her around the junkyard until she reached a certain spot. Beyond the hobble she and Rachel called home, a little further than the small woodland clearly that stood apart from the junkyard in beauty and comparison. 

 

It was there, before the Steve's Crabs sign, near to the yellow bus and discarded washing machine did Chloe find her feet grinding to a halt. It was above slightly raised ground, though the entire land of the junkyard was uneven and raised in certain places. 

 

At this certain spot however, a ray of sunshine broke through the dark clouds and warmed the back of Chloe's head, and her shadow fell over where she stood. There was a lingering in her heart, like she knew, like she'd always known.

 

For redemption, she fell to her knees. Chloe was not a religious person. God had forsaken her long ago when she lost her father, and he still showed abandonment now when Rachel was just out of reach. Tears welled in her slightly puffy eyes, and shaking hands reached out mindlessly to brush a few scrapes of dirt away from the raised ground, and she watched with jaded eyes as the dirt rolled down, and how her fingers ached to dig deeper.

 

Then, from the cast of sunshine, a shadow seemed to loom closer to Chloe, as she lay bent over what seemed to be a lapse in time, what seemed to keep her caged in regret...

 

“Rachel?” She choked out, and when she turned her head, there was a flash. A sudden, snap of a camera flash. 

 

It wasn't daytime. It was night. The air was just as dark as the day she remembered, and it was not Rachel behind her. From beside her, she heard the faint yell of Max – yes, Max, telling her to watch out as she stared down the barrel of a gun.

 

They say the happiest and saddest moments of your life flash before your eyes right before you die. 

 

Chloe always thought that was bullshit.

 

But a ghost of someone who was once human, someone who lived a life in flash photography, camera in action stood next to two lifeless bodies. One buried deep within the ground, decayed, and it was an insult to her beauty. Next to her, hand ironically landing inches away from where the hand of the decaying body lay, was the fresh bodily image of herself. Her entirety. And then a few feet away was Max, lifeless, but alive.

 

There, in that moment, Chloe saw her entire world.

 

“Chloe?”

 

A gasp escaped from ghastly lips. Although dead, a spirit, Chloe could feel the blood from her wound still running down her face, and mix in with tear slipping down her cheeks she didn't know she was crying. An overwhelming sensation in her chest mixed with fear, regret and love came pouring out through her eyes as emotionally, inside, she collapsed. 

 

Perhaps she was dead, but Chloe had never felt more alive.

 

This time, when Chloe turned around, there she saw her. After months of searching, she found her.

 

“Rachel...”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to my wonderful and fantastic friend Nai. She got me into this amazing, life changing series and through spending time talking to her for hours on end about crazy head canons and theories, I was able to muster the will to write this story.
> 
> If you liked it, please leave kudos or comment. Thank you.


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